


Carry On

by QueerlyWorded (Miss_Anonymous)



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: 1950s, Angst with a Happy Ending, Discussion of Abortion, F/F, Historical, Historical Lesbian Relationship, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, No Lesbians Die, Parenthood, Post-Canon, Victim Blaming, Women's Rights, marital rape, mother!Therese
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:49:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25806154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Anonymous/pseuds/QueerlyWorded
Summary: Carol finds herself pregnant, threatening the future she has tentatively begun with Therese and reopening issues that she thought were settled.
Relationships: Carol Aird/Therese Belivet
Comments: 50
Kudos: 68





	1. I. Confirmation

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is my first Carol fanfic - I recently watched the movie and was blown away by how gorgeous the story, score and acting was. It's so necessary to have queer narratives that don't end with death or where one of the main characters returns to their previous different-gendered partner after a "summer they will remember for a lifetime" *squints at Call Me By Your Name*. We get happy endings too!
> 
> This fic is relatively dark - there will be descriptions of rape/non-con, so if that isn't your cup of tea I will preface the chapter with a warning so you can skip. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Carol toyed with the clasp of the bracelet biting into her wrist and tried to focus. She could almost hear the hypnotic tic of the clock on the wall of the clinic and it was making thinking impossible. Carol thrived on plans. Her mouth twitched as Therese’s laugh rang clear through her head, drowning out the sniffles and coughs of those lining the walls who looked as though only a chair was keeping them from puddling on the floor. Contrary to Therese’s belief, Carol had to work hard to appear nonchalant and unbothered, and right now, she could hear the hitch in her breath and the thrum of her heart. 

She knew Therese would snort if she saw the outfit Carol had thrown together in the hope of passing unnoticed. Paint-splattered pants, left over from working on the apartment, and the shirt Therese used for gardening. She had even tied the old stained scarf she had used when Rindy was little around her hair, hiding the immaculately manicured curls she was positive were a dead give-away. It hadn’t mattered, not really. Nobody had assimilated in this cold room which felt unfit for occupation, and nobody was looking anywhere but their feet. Their own shame was enough. They didn’t need to gawk at Carol’s.

“Mrs. A?”

Carol looked up, taking in the petite, washed-out nurse standing in the single doorway that led, presumably, deeper into the clinic. The nurse nodded as Carol made to rise, and she followed her down the dimly-lit hallway trying not to think about what was going on behind each of the wooden doors she passed. Not that she had any moral high ground to stand on. The unappealing gray walls cracked with age and the floorboards creaked with every step, despite the fact that neither the nurse nor Carol was wearing heels.

“Just in here, ma’am.” The nurse nodded in a windowless room that had a single cot pushed against the back wall. A small table that looked like it had been repurposed from a wealthy bedside held a collection of cotton and alcohol, and seemed too dainty for the tray of needles placed on its surface.

Carol inhaled, antiseptic stinging her nose as she sat uneasily on the cot. The nurse seemed to sense her discomfort and met her eyes calmly. 

“We won’t be using the needles today.” 

Carol nodded, ashamed of how much relief washed over her. They were needles, for christsakes. The nurse was still looking at her carefully.

“Mrs. A, my name is Dr. Meade. I’m going to need you to describe your circumstances, as much as you are comfortable providing.”

Carol blinked. Silly to assume that the woman was a nurse. She didn’t want a male doctor anyways, not for this. Dr. Meade stood patiently, waiting for her to proceed.

“Yes, I – think I might be pregnant.” Carol stopped, staring determinedly at the floor.

“When did you last have sexual intercourse?” Dr. Meade’s voice was soothing, nonaccusatory.

Carol hesitated. “Well my – ex-husband –“ she stopped, but the Dr. wasn’t staring at her anymore, as though sensing it would be easier that way. 

“My ex-husband, three months ago and I haven’t – bled since. And I’ve noticed that I feel nauseous, worse than I did with Rin – with my daughter, and I just – have a feeling.”

As she spoke, Dr. Meade carefully felt her abdomen, prodding the area underneath her navel with experienced hands, and now she nodded.

“Yes, for all intents and purposes, I would agree that you are most likely pregnant. There’s nothing medically speaking we can do for positive confirmation, but you mentioned already having a child so I’m going to trust your judgement. I’m going to provide you with some details in terms of options-“ she glanced carefully over Carol and paused. “I recommend that women talk over the information with somebody else who could be trusted. Somebody who can check in after, if you wish to proceed. I know that may be impossible, but I strongly encourage you to consider confiding.”

Carol listened numbly, letting the words wash over her. As though she expected something different. As though she hadn’t known from the first month, the first bout of sickness, the first-

“-going to have to make a decision soon, because risks increase significantly after the third month. Mrs. A? Are you-”

“It’s Miss. But I’d rather Carol,” she interrupted Dr. Meade. She smiled artificially. “There’s really no point in anonymity if you’re going to see – everything.”

-

Carol emerged from the clinic twenty minutes later with the pamphlets Dr. Meade had handed her buried in the bottom of her pocketbook. _There Are Options_ , read one in a red typeset set on a sterile white background. Another purple one titled _What is Abortion?_ included numbered lists. Carol wasn’t aware such materials even existed in print, and Dr. Meade had cautioned her against leaving them around, not that she needed the warning. 

_Pregnant_. Carol wanted to cry. Somewhere else, in another world, this would be good news, the only benefit of an afternoon she couldn’t bear to think about. She would tell Therese who would laugh and kiss her, pressing her hands to Carol’s stomach in anticipation, and Carol would smile at the thought of Therese holding a baby, their baby, of Therese being a mother. The only thing Carol worried about more about than how their relationship would affect Therese’s career was the possibility that Therese would realize one day that she wanted children, and it would be too late. It wasn’t the child she was afraid of telling Therese about. She knew they could figure it out. Lord knows they had been through worse than this just fine. It was the implications, the questions Therese would have, the answers she would need to provide, that worried her.

“Hey, watch it!” 

Carol shook her head as she stumbled out of the way of a man carrying a towering stack of boxes. 

“You’re too pretty to be wearing that, sweetheart.” Carol startled as she eyed the pile of cloth from which the voice emerged. 

“Get your cute little self out of here,” the old man rasped, “or you’re never gonna leave!” He cackled with the hilarity of his own wit, and Carol smiled despite herself. 

She eyed the filthy hat perched near his immobile foot, and unclasped the bracelet from her wrist before she could think about what she was doing, tossing it loosely in his direction. She didn’t know why she still had it anyway – after the divorce, she had sold all of the jewelry Harge had bestowed over the years with little quips about how he had to wrap his own present. Harge liked breaking pretty things – glass, figures. Carol. It wasn’t as fun to destroy something ugly, something nobody wanted. So he dolled her up, making sure she was the prettiest at every party, preening like a bird over a stolen spoon. He had given her that bracelet just after Rindy was born, when she was holding her; had looked them both over and whispered, _“Not that it could make you any more beautiful.”_ It was the only time he hadn’t found some infinitesimal thing that needed improvement. It was maudlin, perhaps, but Carol had kept the bracelet, worn it nearly constantly despite the fact that it was slightly too small and left a red indent on her skin. 

As it clanked against the pitiful heap of change, Carol pictured throwing it all away. She walked, reveling in the fact that he was no longer grabbing her wrist, feeling the air wash over her pulsepoint.


	2. II. three months, two weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you so much for all of the comments, kudos and support! This fandom is amazing!!! Here's the next part - I'm writing as I go, so there may be long gaps between updates :) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Carol couldn’t eat. The tuna noodle casserole had congealed in a disassociated mess, and she knew she was going to have to start hiding bits of food in her napkin if she didn’t want Therese to notice. She felt Therese’s foot wrap absent-mindedly around her calf and she smiled across the table, grateful that Rindy was visiting and was trying to impart two weeks’ information in ten minutes. It was all Therese could do to get a hum of affirmation in every time she gasped for a breath.

“Rindy, darling, do remember to breathe,” Carol said, meeting Therese’s sparkling eyes with her own bemused grin. Even now, a full six months after the divorce, Carol couldn’t quite believe that she got Therese and Rindy, for a full two days every other week.

“I _am_ , Mama!” Rindy squealed, kicking her feet impatiently.

“She’s definitely yours,” Therese muttered out of the side of her mouth. “Neither of you could be still if your lives depended on it.”

Carol snorted neutrally, soaking in the candle-lit animation of Rindy’s features and the way Therese methodically tucked a wayward strand of hair beyond her ear with every other bite.

Rindy rambled on, “-and _then_ Ethel told me that it _wasn’t_ actually Tommy who stole her Mister Potato Man! Their housekeeper just put it in Tommy’s room – Tommy’s her brother, Titi –” 

Carol let her fork swirl through the mess on her plate. She had buried the pamphlets in a draw of Rindy’s old things where Therese never went after coming home two weeks ago and refused to think about it since. She knew that was a bad habit – never thinking about things that demanded instant action – but she just couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge what those pamphlets could mean for them. Instead, she had taken to eschewing her usual belt and wearing more flattering dresses. 

She couldn’t go on much longer without telling Therese – not with the way they were. The first time they had made love after visiting Dr. Meade, Carol was sure Therese could feel the frantic pulse of her heart, and she had undressed facing the wall, something Therese usually never let slide.

_“Please, I want to_ see _you_ ,” she would whisper, and they would be back in that hotel all over again where Carol had somehow found the courage to leave on the bedside lamp. Therese never lost an opportunity to press kisses over the wrinkles near the corner of her eyes, the scar beneath her navel where they had cut for Rindy; she would follow disfigurements like landmarks, tracing her way up and down Carol’s body, sweet nonsense _perfect_ s pouring out of her mouth. Though Carol would never apply that word to anything but Therese. 

Carol could feel the firmness of her own form. When she turned sideways in the mirror, she was sure her abdomen was beginning to protrude. She hadn’t really seriously considered abortion for long; while she certainly had no moral or political hangups over the procedure, she had subconsciously begun thinking of the baby as hers and Therese’s the moment Dr. Meade had confirmed her suspicion. Carol had always wanted more children, something she realized being gay would never allow. Not that she would have wanted it to happen this way. 

“-arol? CAROL!” 

Carol startled, looking at Therese who was watching her concernedly.

“Do you feel all right, love? You’ve barely eaten.” Therese nodded to Carol’s mutilated plate.

“Oh, I - had a late lunch. Business meeting, for the store,” Carol muttered distractedly, ignoring the pang she felt as a subtle wave of hurt washed over Therese’s features.

“Carol,” Therese said quietly, reaching her hand across the table to still her fork, which was still tracing patterns absentmindedly, as though it had a mind of its own. “It’s Saturday.”

Carol froze. 

“Well, I won’t make that again!” Therese’s joke fell flat and Carol blinked nervously.

“No, no, it’s – I’m sure it’s delicious, darling, truly,” she said, scanning the room. “Where’s Rindy?”

Therese’s eyebrows pinched together.

“I told her she could watch television five minutes ago. Have you heard anything I said since she left?”

“I’m sorry,” Carol said helplessly, dropping her fork with a faint _clink_.

Therese squeezed her hand softly, and Carol couldn’t stand the understanding in her eyes, the warmth of her touch. This wasn’t something that could be understood. She didn’t deserve compassion.

“Love, you never answered my question.”

Carol looked away.

“I’m fine,” she bit out, hating the way her tone trailed off weakly making the statement much less declarative than she was aiming for. It sounded like she was asking. _I’m fine? Am I fine?_ Carol didn’t want to think about what her actual answer might be if she sat there any longer.

She pushed her chair back from the table abruptly, ignoring the worry she saw broadcasted clear as day across Therese’s face and the loss of Therese’s hand.

“Going to go check on Rindy,” she tossed over her shoulder as she swayed across the room. It was only after she settled herself on the couch, Rindy’s head in her lap, that she realized she had left Therese to scrape and finish all of the washing.

\- 

Carol nearly cursed as she looked in the mirror four days after Rindy’s visit. The damn skirt was not going to zip. It didn’t matter how she sucked or squirmed, it was simply too small. Try as she might, Carol couldn’t ignore how rapidly she was gaining weight. It had to be at least eighteen pounds, if not more, and she could place a full palm beneath the gentle curve of her stomach. 

“You’re going to be late!” Therese called out from the other room, rushing around to gather her own film strips and bag of supplies, and Carol gave it up as a bad job, squashing down the flutter of anxiety. On their way out, Therese mentioned how pretty the new dress was. Carol just smiled.

-

It was inevitable, she supposed, with the way things were going, but she really hadn’t thought it through. So when Therese began to nuzzle her neck that night, cupping her face to tug her closer, Carol panicked. Her head nearly smashed Therese’s nose as she jerked away, breathing heavily.

“I – I think I might be sick,” she blurted, too afraid to turn around and see the look on Therese’s face. She heard the creak of their bed, closed her eyes as Therese padded around. She flinched as she felt Therese’s hands on her thighs.

_“Sweetheart.”_ Therese’s voice was low, deliberate. Carol trembled. Therese never called her that, not unless something wonderful or catastrophic happened. Carol was her given name, or love, but never-

“Sweetheart, look at me,” Therese’s voice wavered and Carol opened her eyes, fighting a desperate urge to fall into Therese, to tell her everything and let her make it all better.

Therese’s gaze was steady. “You _never_ need a reason. Do you understand?” she asked, deathly serious. “I couldn’t live with myself if – Carol.” She took in a shaky breath, wiping her nose messily and Carol hates it, hates what she’s doing to them, hates that Therese thinks she could ever not want her. 

“It’s like at the doctor’s. _Consent,_ somebody called it once.” Therese sniffed as her eyes streamed and Carol blinked furiously. Therese squeezed her legs gently. 

“Carol, you _have_ to promise me,” she stopped as her voice broke. Therese was full-on crying, and Carol wiped her cheeks softly. She felt something shatter, as real and loudly as a dropped plate.

“You have to – to prom – to promise to tell me no,” Therese choked out. “I couldn’t – couldn’t bear it if I became – your Richard.”

“Oh darling, no,” Carol murmured, pulling Therese’s head to her chest. “I promise, darling, really I swear, it’s not you, it’s not – it’s me. I’m sorry-"

“Stop.” Therese cut her off. “Stop blaming yourself, just stop. This is good, this is – normal.” She laughed shakily. “This is a conversation healthy people have. We’re okay. We’re okay,” she repeated, half to herself, and Carol looked up at the bleeding lamp as the light danced, kaleidoscopic through her tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, "fun" fact - marital rape wasn't criminalized until 1976, and it wasn't prosecuted until 1982 in the United States. Consent began as a thing for medical procedures - it wasn't until the 2000s that it was applied to romantic relationships. I had no idea until I took a course on Women's History and the ERA, because most school curriculums skip over minority history (or, at least, my school did). 
> 
> Stay healthy!


	3. III. four months

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Ok, so I know I just said to be prepared for sporadic updates and then this happened. *shrugs confusedly* Really though, this chapter is an anomaly :) Trigger warning - discussions of rape/non-con.

Therese lasted two more weeks. In all due fairness, Carol thought, she really was being horrible. Stumbling all over the place (she had forgotten about the balance bit), refusing breakfast, turning down drinks. She was certain that if it was biologically possible for two women to conceive, Therese would have pegged her ages ago. As it was, Carol was sure that whatever Therese thought the matter was, she definitely hadn’t figured out the truth.

She hadn’t pressed Carol since that night, but Carol could tell she was itching to ask; she had even gone so far as to inquire about sales at the store a couple of times, and Carol responded noncommittally before beating a hasty exit, discouraging future attempts at conversation. It was reminding Carol of those days in the beginning of their road-trip where Therese weighed everything before speaking as though she had a daily quota of permissible expression. 

Carol came home from the furniture store on the Friday following Rindy’s latest visit to find Therese and Abby sitting side-by-side on the couch with tea, a third, still steaming, cup waiting on the tray perched in front of them.

“He-llo?” She raised an eyebrow as she tossed her coat in the general direction of the chair in the corner. Therese had loved that chair from the moment it was delivered, rescued by Carol en route to the dump because one of the arms was slightly longer, a factory defect. They could never have afforded the green suede outright, so she was delighted when Carol explained that her manager had given it freely, more then happy to direct a truck to their residence rather than the significantly further disposal.

Now Therese gestured for her to take a seat and she slowly complied, looking from her to Abby and feeling for all the world like a schoolgirl awaiting punishment.

“What’s going on?”

Abby cleared her throat. 

“I’ve been summoned to run an interference.”

“A what?” Carol asked with a casual laugh, ignoring the sudden clamminess of her palms.

Therese just looked at her – sadly, Carol noticed; she pushed away the uncomfortable knowledge that she was responsible.

“As I understand, you have two options – you tell Therese or you tell me. None of this dealing with things on your own bit.” Abby waved her free hand, nearly upsetting her own teacup.

Carol straightened. “Tell you _what_?”

“Whatever’s been making you upset!” Therese burst out, setting her cup firmly on the table. For the first time, Carol realized how miserable she seemed; flyaways sprang from the top of her head in odd directions and bags lined her eyes. Therese clasped her hands as though gathering her thoughts.

“There’s something – _wrong_ – Carol, and I can’t help you, can’t – and it’s killing me,” she finished, looking at her pleadingly. _“Please.”_

Abby laid a soothing hand on Therese’s arm and Carol fought to keep her face neutral, swallowing down a bitterness that felt too ugly to be hers. _God,_ she was tired. Her body ached, back knotting after long work shifts, feet swelling whether she donned flats or heels. She craved Therese’s warmth, solid, sure and unshakeable; she was tired of Therese watching her as though she was going to snap, hesitating before reaching for her hand, and she knew it wasn’t going to stop as long as she kept pulling away. She hated that Therese was right – she felt fragile, unable to scrub off a residue that slowed her legs and slurred her words, and she missed the way it felt to be held, curling into Therese’s frame until she seemed the smaller one. It would be so painfully easy to talk, to tell her everything and show her those now useless pamphlets, to breathe in Therese’s subtle scent of spiced orange until everything came back into focus. Until it became too complicated to even begin.

Carol cleared her throat, but when she spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “I can’t.”

“So you admit that something _is_ wrong, then,” Abby said. “I suppose that’s a start.”

“No! No, I- I’ve just been tired,” Carol trailed off, apprehensive. 

“That’s not it,” Therese cut in, shaking her head. “Love. You’re barely eating. You don’t want to go out, not ever. I’m more than happy to stay in the middle of nowhere if you’re there-” she let out a sad little laugh, “but that’s not you, Carol. I’m the lonely old maid type.”

Abby raised her eyebrows. “I guess that makes you the wanderer looking for a reason to settle down.”

“You haven’t even had a drink in over two weeks!” Therese continued, and it was a mark of how focused she was on Carol’s reaction that she didn’t notice the way Abby’s eyes widened, the comical near-drop of her teacup. _Shit._ Carol’s internal stream of profanity washed over Therese’s voice and she locked gazes with Abby, silently begging. Her desperation only seemed to strengthen Abby’s conviction and Carol waited for the inevitable fallout. She nearly laughed at the fitting irony – she couldn’t remember the last time she had had control of her own life.

“You know,” Abby said, cutting across Therese, “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before, but Carol never drinks in July. She’s always terribly melancholy at the beginning of the summer, hmm?”

“Oh, I – what?” Therese’s face flushed.

Abby plowed on and Carol did her best to look agreeable, head spinning. “Yes, you see, her – mother! Her mother died around this time, and she was very involved in the abstinence campaign back during Wilson.” 

“Oh,” Therese sounded embarrassed. “Is that all? Not _all_ , but – is that – I didn’t know,” she finished, looking thoroughly mortified. “That’s – honorable,” she tried, and Carol wanted to melt through the floor. _No, that’s not it._ The words were on the tip of her tongue, waiting to cut the awkward silence.

“I’m so sorry for bothering you, Abby,” Therese wouldn’t look at Carol as she moved to collect the still untouched cup waiting on the table. “I don’t know what I was thinking-“

“Oh hush now, really. As though I need an excuse to come sit on your lovely furniture,” Abby huffed, touching Therese again as she watched Carol with barely concealed worry and Carol was done.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out. Therese froze mid-bend as Abby’s mouth snapped shut in a tight grimace. 

“I’m sorry,” Carol continued helplessly, watching a myriad of emotions swirl across Therese’s face as she straightened, and the relief was almost worth it. Therese opened and closed her mouth several times before crossing the length of the room, kneeling next to Carol’s chair and reaching out for her hand. Carol grasped, trying not to squeeze as tightly as she wanted to.

“How far along?” Therese’s voice was steady, and her eyes never left Carol’s even as Carol watched her try and put together a narrative that couldn’t possibly work.

She hesitated. “Four months.”

“And the father?” Therese’s tone wasn’t quite clinical and Carol felt a flicker of hope until the question registered. She closed her eyes, wiping Therese and the shrinking room away in favor of the gentle glow of pink light that seeped through her eyelids. 

“I need you to look at me.” Therese sounded surprised by the sternness of her own voice. “You owe me that much, just – _please_.” Carol could feel her shaking. 

A soft shuffle of feet and the creak of the door cut off Abby’s “I’m going to just –”, and Therese was still there, waiting and there was nowhere else to hide. The cooling unit creaked dejectedly in the silent room. 

“You have to believe me when I say,” Carol began, eyes still closed, “that I never wanted this. I wasn’t trying – I still don’t know what I did –“

“There was a man.” It was harsh, but not judgmental, which Carol thought was more than she deserved. 

“Why didn’t you just _tell_ me?” Therese asked miserably. “I would have understood. Or, at least, I would have tried.”

“It wasn’t like that.” 

“Then what was it like?” Carol opened her eyes as Therese wrenched her hand away. “I – I’m trying, Carol, really, but you’re not making sense, you’re – you’re not even _explaining_ -"

Carol watched her pace, motionless. “I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.” It was condensed, quiet, which made it worse. 

“They’re going to be Rindy’s sibling.” 

Therese jerked to a stop. Carol inhaled, picking at her thumbnail. 

“He came to visit four months ago. I was confused, because it wasn’t our weekend with Rindy, but he told me he had come to speak about the current – arrangement – and how it wasn’t working. Too inconvenient, he said, to drive all the way into Manhattan twice every month. He thought it would be better if Rindy only came once, or every four weeks. Seemed dead set on it, and pointed out how the lawyers had agreed to _frequent visits_ without a set timeframe, so he could do whatever he pleases. I begged him to reconsider,” Carol paused, thoughtful. “We barely ever see Rindy as is. And she always leaves dreadfully early on Sundays, doesn’t even stay for lunch sometimes. He said – there was one way I could change his mind.” 

Red flakes of polish clung to Carol’s skirt as she picked furiously. Therese’s face had grown increasingly wary as Carol spoke and now fully displayed the horror of comprehension.

_“Love-,”_ she began, before Carol cut her off.

“But I couldn’t – couldn’t bear the thought of – _that. So I said no_ ,” she trailed off, gazing at some nonexistent thing. “I said no, even though – Rindy – we wouldn’t _see_ -,” 

“-Stop.” Therese was in front of her, running her hands over Carol’s face, smoothing away wetness Carol hadn’t even felt. “No, Carol, you couldn’t – it’s not your _fault_ – “

“But then,” Carol continued, raising her voice over Therese, “he got angry. Said that ‘letting me go’ was his biggest regret and that he’d never have anybody like me. Apparently, he never meant it when he said I was lucky that he wanted me –“

“ _Hush_ , sweetheart, you don’t have to tell me love, I believe you-”

“- so he decided that he didn’t want to give me up after all. But he had nothing left, because Rindy hadn’t worked. So he told me – if I _didn’t_ – that he would testify that _you_ ,” Carol was gasping now and she barely felt Therese’s arms, the press of Therese’s lips on her forehead. “That you _hurt her_. Because you – love people like me…and then I wouldn’t just lose Rindy…” 

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” Therese breathed, _“God, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”_

“It was _me_ ,” Carol bit out, wrapping her arms around her stomach. “If I hadn’t opened the door, if I hadn’t been wearing that-“

“NO!” Therese grabbed her cheeks. “No, Carol, sweetheart, don’t do that, don’t you dare blame yourself. Love, it’s not your _fault_ , listen to me, Carol-“ Therese crouched in front of the awful green chair and Carol slipped onto the floor, ignoring the dull throbbing in her back as Therese rocked her the same way she held Rindy, tight and close against her chest, and Carol remembered what it felt like to be safe. 

_“Oh, my love,”_ Therese murmured, nose buried in Carol’s hair, _“oh sweetheart, it’ll be alright. You’ll see, Carol, we’ll figure it out, hush darling, shh now love, it’s okay.”_

Over and over she whispered, smoothing kisses into her hair, face, lips and Carol felt free again.


	4. IV. four - five months

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this clears a few things up. I have a rough outline, but school is starting for me quite soon and I have rather a lot of summer homework I've been neglecting in favor of fanfic that needs to be finished :)
> 
> Warnings: Explicit discussion of rape/non-con. Some sexyfuntimes in the middle of this chapter, so scroll down to the second ellipses if that's not your cup of tea.
> 
> Enjoy!

Abby was at the door. It was a mark of the seriousness of what they were going to be discussing that she even bothered to knock – it wasn’t uncommon for Carol to leave the room for as little as ten minutes and come back to see her sitting on the counter as though it was made specifically for those who preferred to avoid furniture in favor of an infinitely less comfortable alternative. 

Therese stood motionless in the front hallway and turned to look at Carol, who nodded, affirming the unspoken question. She was ready. She wasn’t going to break, and if she did, Therese would put everything back together. She took a deep breath and made for the couch before changing her mind; it would be too juvenile to wait, sitting, and it was _Abby_ , for crying out loud. Therese wrenched open the door, and Carol smiled at her demure responses to Abby’s overenthusiastic welcome, as though she hadn’t watched Carol totally lose it three days earlier in the next room over.

As Carol settled against Therese on the couch, holding her free hand with both of her own and leaning into the arm that wrapped around her shoulders, she no longer cared about looking juvenile. She stared at Therese’s skirt as though the pattern of sunlight would spell everything out in monotone. 

“You know, you don’t have to-,” Abby began after a ten-second silence, but Carol shook her head.

“That’s what he would want. Me to be too afraid to tell anybody what actually happened.” She inhaled as Therese squeezed reassuringly. 

“Three months ago,” she began, toneless, “Harge came to visit on an off-weekend and told me that we needed to renegotiate custody. I don’t know if he even cared about the extra time with Rindy – if he didn’t, it would be easier. But he loves her. He’s good to her…”

“Just because he’s good to his daughter doesn’t make him any less despicable,” Abby said from her perch on the coffee table. Carol fingered the wrist that still felt naked without that bracelet, even after a full month. _But he loved me. I thought, I knew – he loved me once. And I never loved him…_

“Do you think I’m horrible for never loving him, even after he gave me Rindy?” Carol asked.

“No,” Therese replied without hesitation. “No, I don’t, not when you had no other choice but marriage, when we – when people like us could never have been.” Carol nodded. That was true. She’d certainly never have even considered moving in with another woman before having children, too afraid she was going to miss out on what seemed to be making everybody so _happy_.

“Yes, well. Harge offered an ultimatum of sorts. Though it sounds so crass put that way. Essentially, he demanded me, or Rindy’s visits would be severely limited. But I said no, even though – I knew what it meant, even though mothers are supposed to – care about their children – more than anything,” Carol fought to keep her voice even and Therese pressed kisses into her hair. “I couldn’t. So I said no.”

Abby frowned, confused.

“But he had apparently made up his mind to have me. Started with some old nonsense about the divorce being his biggest regret,” Carol gave a small, bitter laugh. “If I refused, he planned – to tell the lawyers that Therese – touched – Rindy. That she _desired_ her.” 

“That _bastard_ ,” Abby ground out, nose wrinkling with disgust. “As though anybody could ever believe that _Therese_ – oh, Carol.”

“Yes, well. I stopped fighting after that. Though I did…” She shrugged, listlessly. “I _begged. I asked him to stop._ ”

“You did everything right,” Therese murmured, rubbing her back.

“If I did everything right, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“STOP IT!” The synchronized cry tugged at the corners of Carol’s mouth.

“You know…” Abby hesitated, thoughtfully. “If you don’t mind me asking, where-?”

“In the front hallway. Against the _fucking wall_ , if you can believe that.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Therese muttered, gripping tighter. “Why – what could that possibly –“

Abby looked away. “I – had a thought. Never mind.” 

Carol closed her eyes and breathed in the sweet smell of citrus and cloves.

…

“Love? Have you – been to a doctor at all?” Carol turned to find Therese in her bathrobe, shadow long in the soft lamp light. She appeared startled with her own forwardness, and Carol wouldn’t be surprised if she had opened her mouth several times before speaking when Carol was still staring out the bedroom window. She liked to look out, at night – the fifth floor vantage point allowed her to watch most of the block, and she enjoyed mentally tracking the growth of a small plot of flowers directly below.

“You know, you can ask me anything.” Carol’s tone was gentle, definitive, and Therese blushed.

“Yes, well, I – I’m not used to – being allowed. To ask questions.”

“Oh?”

“I – I only mean that – Richard – didn’t like to talk about feelings, much.”

Carol nodded soundlessly, turning back to face outside. Harge hadn’t liked talking about feelings either. 

“You would tell me, if you were scared? If you were scared and I could do anything about it?” It was earnest, sweet, and Carol could see her pale face back in that car, the way she had turned, measured every word.

“Yes, I-,” Carol began, watching a bird toe and toddle drunkenly across a power line, black against the somber night sky. Smoke wafted lazily, disappearing before the third story. _That’s me_ , she mused, brushing the windowpane. _I’ll waste away before I get to fly._

_“I’m scared,_ ” she whispered.

“ _I know_.” Therese’s voice was right in her ear, and Carol turned, gasping, fumbling for her face and she kept her eyes open as they kissed, desperate relief flooding her veins. 

“I know,” Therese hummed, smoothing Carol’s hair, forehead to forehead. “I know, love.”

“ _Please_ ,” Carol gasped, pressing her mouth to the side of Therese’s jaw, and Therese tugged at the knot on Carol’s bathrobe too slowly, her arms cradling Carol’s back beneath the fabric. “I missed you, missed-“

Therese kissed her furiously, and Carol was laying down, and this felt more right than anything she could remember, because Therese was there and she knew, she knew it all. 

“ _Sweetheart_.” She felt exposed without her bathrobe, as her skin prickled and she shivered as Therese stroked her swollen stomach carefully, tracing around her navel and up to her ribcage. She watched, and as Therese met her eyes, everything blurred. “Am I hurting you?” It was desperate, worried, and Carol shook her head, waiting for judgement. 

“ _No_ ,” she whispered.

“ _Oh, Carol, you’re so beautiful_.” Therese’s hands found her cheeks, and she kissed away Carol’s tears, cradling her body.

“I love you,” Carol gasped out. “Darling - I love you, love - ”

Therese pushed her down so gently Carol trembled, arching to find her touch. She kissed her way down Carol’s front and Carol’s breath hitched as her nails scraped the inside of her thighs. 

“ _Oh Carol_ ,” Therese repeated, and Carol waited to be put back together. 

That night, they slept on the same pillow, face-to-face, Carol nestled securely in Therese’s neck and pressed into her body. 

…

“Get a move on, would you Aird?” Carol flinched, glancing back down at the inventory she had pinned to her clipboard only that morning. When the store was busy, she seldom found herself watching the foot traffic and steady stream of motor vehicles at the window, but 10 am was dead, and saw only the occasional senior couple looking for something with back support. 

_Aird_ , he had said. As though she still belonged to Harge.

“Sorry, Don,” Carol called over her shoulder, after checking enough boxes to confirm that yes, they still had all three colors of Model 667x1.

“I’m not payin’ you to sightsee! Honestly, you get a woman in a store and look what happens. Next thing I know you’ll be _sleepin’_ on the damned couches.”

“I _said_ sorry!” Carol blew hair out of her eyes with a frustrated huff, exhaling with relief as she heard the front door jingle and Don thundered off. 

In the four weeks since Abby had knocked on the door, Carol found herself getting tired at odd hours, nodding off just before closing when ringing up a transaction or leaning into the wall near that godforsaken window. She didn’t remember anything similar with Rindy, but then again she hadn’t been working, either. Not that she would even consider giving this job up. As much as Don ran his mouth about her unchanging status as a female, it payed well, and she found that she genuinely loved helping customers select furniture schemes. Sometimes she was called in to scope out an unfurnished space ahead of time, and she was reminded of Rindy playing house as she suggested catty-cornered armchairs and two love seats instead of a longer sofa.

Although she often had to remind herself just how much she liked her job on days like this.

“Aird! Commere!” She held back a sigh, thudding down the stairs heavily, clipboard still in hand. Don looked up as she entered, gesturing for her to take a seat across from another man who hadn’t bothered to remove his hat. She smiled thinly, extending her hand. 

“ _Carol_ , pleased to meet you.” The man shook limply and for a half a beat too long.

“Yes, yes, well. Jorgis. Mick Jorgis. I’ve been told you’re the best interior designer there is.”

“The _only_ interior designer, actually. She likes to play with furniture.” Don laughed loudly. Carol remained standing, and Jorgis watched her bemusedly through bloodshot eyes.

“Yes, yes, well. Here’s some pictures. Do you have any ideas?”

Jorgis was the first of a long stream of customers that had Carol running up and down the staircase all afternoon and she was ready to cry when Don called yet again just before closing. 

“Aird, listen.” Don shifted uncomfortably and Carol straightened, focusing. “I’m really sorry about this, but we’re going to have to let you go.” She blinked as his words registered.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, we’re going to have to let you go.”

“Yes, I heard that part, but-“ Carol struggled to keep her frustration in check. “May I ask why? Being that I’m the _only interior designer_ , as you yourself pointed out _this afternoon?_ ”

“Aird, you’re bad for business. Bad advertising,” he said, gesturing uncomfortably at her waist area. “We can’t have unwed mothers running around. You don’t even wear a goddamn ring! Sends a bad message. You see what I’m saying?”

“No. Actually, I don’t,” Carol bit out levelly. “In fact, I’m _good for business_.”

“Aird, come on, don’t be this way. Look, I’m giving you an extra bit –" he held out an envelope, and Carol grabbed it silently. Don shifted, uncomfortable. 

“If there’s nothing else…” 

Carol tipped her head back, determined not to cry. As she pushed her way onto the crowded sidewalk, the bells rang cheerfully, oblivious.

…

“ _Fired_?” Therese asked, standing from the floor where she was crouched with Rindy. _Of course it had to be this weekend._

“ _Fired_?” Rindy echoed, jumping up with her hands on her hips. “What’s fired, Mama?”

“I am, darling,” Carol said, collapsing on the couch with a sigh and opening her arms as Rindy ran over.

“But – why?” Therese asked. Carol hesitated, eyeing Rindy.

“Because of five months ago.” Therese’s face flashed with understanding.

“Oh Carol, I’m sorry.”

“Don gave me extra for the last one. Or at least he said he did.”

“Who cares about the money? You loved that job.” Therese crossed the room, sinking down next to Carol.

“Yes,” Carol agreed softly, running a hand through Rindy’s hair. “I did.”

“There’ll be something else,” Therese said. “There’s plenty of furniture stores, and people always need couches and chairs and things.”

“Yes, well.” Carol nearly laughed, remembering Mick Jorgis and his _‘Yes, yes well.’_

“What is it, Mama?” 

“Oh, nothing darling. A silly man asked for my help today and he said two _yes’s_ before speaking, and I sounded like him just now.”

Rindy giggled, reaching up to squeeze Carol’s cheeks. “ _Two_ yes’s! That’s so silly Mama! You only need one!”

“Sometimes people like to say things twice,” said Therese.

“But _why_ , Titi? Isn’t it so repet-repeta-“

“Repetitive?” finished Carol.

“Well,” Therese began, “Sometimes it’s nice to hear things twice. Like ‘I love you’. Wouldn’t you like it if I said ‘I love you’ twice in a row, just like that silly man?”

Rindy nodded seriously, thinking. “Yes, I would like that.”

“I love you!” Therese reached out and tapped Rindy’s nose. She looked up, meeting Carol’s eyes. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all you lovely Cate Blanchett fans out there (and everybody else too, really), I strongly recommend the Hulu series _Mrs. America _, which details the 1970's feminist movement and the story of the ERA; Queen Cate stars as the antagonist along with Sarah Paulson (cue my helpless self falling in love with her anyway while acknowledging the evil of Phyllis Schlafly in the back of my mind). Anyhow, I'm kind of obsessed. It would be amazing if any of y'all talented writers wanted to do a Phyllis/Alice redemption arc :)__


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